I'll Be Seeing You
by GaleLeahy
Summary: "The thing Kurt loved most about New York was his past couldn't haunt him. Little did he know, things wouldn't stay like that forever." Klaine. Mostly fluff. Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

**Hi there! It's me again. Just what you wanted, right? Probably not, but that's okay! Anyway, this is a future fic I thought of as a few songs played on my iPod today, so we'll see how this one works out!**

**To get this one out of the way, I do not own anything except for the concept of this plot. Which probably wasn't mine. Maybe. **

**Anyway, without further ado, here is a lovely Klaine future fic! **

The thing Kurt loved most about New York wasn't the bright lights or the shopping. It wasn't the killer job he landed on Broadway and the New York Times, or the model boyfriend he picked up at a social one night, either. Truth be told, the thing Kurt loved most about New York is that his past couldn't haunt him here.

Sure, Rachel was here. But she was in the same boat as Kurt; wanting to forget everything about Lima, Ohio. Who could blame her, though? After the STD transfer between her and Finn, anybody with a sensible mind would want to spend the last few years they had before the AIDS set in living their dream.

Occasionally things about Lima would come up. Mercedes would call representing a fashion client of ours, Noah would be a cover model, David and Kurt would run into each other in the hallways, or sometimes Kurt would see Tina at Starbucks picking up coffee for her boss. But besides that, Lima was a past life; a faded memory stored underneath large quantities of cardboard boxes in Kurt's high-end loft.

But then Kurt made the mistake of going to Millian's Coffee Shop instead of Starbucks. That's when he saw _him; _Blaine Everett Anderson, looking as beautiful as ever. Kurt's heart skipped a beat, leaving him in a stunned immobility at the entrance of the coffee shop. Kurt smiled at the short curly headed figure on stage, tunning a guitar. The smile quickly faded as Kurt followed Blaine's gaze to see him smiling at a rather attractive man who winked back. Kurt turned, attempting to leave, but was met with Rachel, standing confidently in front of the door.

"Oh no you don't." Rachel said with determination.

"Rachel, please. You know how hard this is for me." Kurt pleaded, attempting to push the short brunette aside.

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, you are staying here. You _need _this closure; I would kill for an opportunity like this with..." Rachel trailed off, tears beginning to form in her eyes. With a small roll of his eyes, Kurt brought his hand up to wipe the tears from her eyes, holding her head in his hands.

"Fine, Rachel. You're lucky you've got me wrapped around your little finger." Kurt said with a sigh, causing Rachel to squeal in excitement.

"Good luck, Kurt!" Rachel whispered, slipping out the door as Blaine's guitar began to play.

"Good evening, everyone. My name is Blaine Anderson and I will be starting things off tonight. Have you guys heard of Jason Mraz?" Blaine asked, smiling into the microphone.

Most everyone in the crowd nodded or grunted, causing Blaine to laugh. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, you guys. Hopefully after this song, everyone will forget what they came here with and just chill out."

Blaine adjusted the microphone a little before placing his fingers on his guitar, plucking out a rhythm.

_I'm just a curbside prophet_

_with my hand in my pocket _

_and I'm waiting for my rocket to come_

_I'm just a curbside prophet_

_with my hand in my pocket _

_and I'm waiting for my rocket y'all_

A few members of the crowd let out a cheer as Blaine slammed a chord on his guitar, a grin settling fondly on his face. In spite of himself, Kurt smiled. Reluctantly Kurt moved towards the front row of tables and sat down, pulling out his laptop.

_You see it started way back in NYC_

_When I stole my first rhyme from the M-I-C_

_At a west end avenue at 63_

_It's the beginning of a leap year February '96_

_win a guitar picked it up in the mix _

_I committed to the licks a like a nickel bag of tricks_

_Well Look at me now_

_Look at me now_

_Look at me now, now, now, now_

Kurt began typing, making notes on each of the lyrics he had pulled off of Google. People around him began standing up, clapping along to the beat of the music. A few started singing along, their voices humming softly under Blaine's own voice.

_I'm just a curbside prophet_

_with my hand in my pocket _

_and I'm waiting for my rocket to come_

_I'm just a curbside prophet_

_with my hand in my pocket _

_and I'm waiting for my rocket y'all_

Blaine started swaying with his guitar, a goofy grin on his face. He glanced around the crowd, his grin growing larger. Kurt continued to click the keys, this paragraph complaining on account of the use of such a unknown song. Secretly, Kurt was just wanting to find something wrong with the performance.

_Well then you'll never'da never'da guess _

_what I bet n' bet n' bet_

_And I have no regrets that I bet my whole checking account_

_Because it all amounts to nothing up in the end_

_Well you can only count that "On The Road Again"_

_Will soon be on my radio dial_

_And I been paying close attention to the Willie Nelson style_

_Like a band of gypsies on the highway wild_

_I'm a one-man wishin' on the California skyline _

_Drive up the coast and I brag and I boast _

_because I'm picking up my pace, I'm makin' time like Space Ghost_

_Raising a toast to the highway patrol at the most_

_But my cruise control's on coast_

_Cause I'm tourin' around the nation on extended vacation_

_See I got Elsa the dog who exceeds my limitations_

_I say, "I like your style crazy pound pup! _

_You need a ride? well come on girl hop in the truck"_

The crowd yelled the last line with Blaine, everyone immediately bursting into fond laughter. A drunk man in his late forties attempted to pull Kurt to his feet, but Kurt quickly stopped this by pulling a can of pepper spray from his Gucci laptop case. The man stumbled backwards, complaining about the youth of America.

_With the curbside prophet_

_with my hand in my pocket _

_and I'm waiting for my rocket to come_

_I'm just a curbside prophet_

_with my hand in my pocket _

_and I'm waiting for my rocket y'all_

_I'm just a curbside prophet_

_with my hand in my pocket_

_and I'm waiting for my rocket to come on_

_I'm just a curbside prophet_

_with my hand in my pocket_

_and I'm waiting for my rocket y'all_

Watching Blaine perform this song reminded Kurt exactly why he fell in love for this man. Blaine didn't sing because a director told him to; Blaine sang because he felt like it. Because he loved it. It was more than Kurt could say for himself.

_See I'm a down-home brother red-neck undercover_

_With my guitar here I'm ready to play_

_And I'm a sucker for Philly got a natural ability_

_geared to freestyle look at my flexibility_

_Dangerous on the MIC _

_My ghetto hat's cocked right_

_All the ladies say,_

"_Yo, that kid is CRAZY!"_

_We got the backstage Betties takin' more than they can get _

_They say, "whats up with M-R-A-Z?"_

Kurt had to laugh at Blaine's attempt to be ghetto. It was severely ridiculous in all aspects possible, but it endeared Kurt to Blaine even more. Blaine's eyes scanned the audience again, this time meeting Kurt's. His eyes widened, jaw dropping ever-so-slightly. Kurt dropped his gaze to his computer, returning to his typing. In all honestly, he was just trying to keep it together.

_Hey hey hey! Somethin's different in my world today_

_Well they changed my traffic signs to a brighter yellow_

Kurt's gaze snapped back up, noticing Blaine's shaken tone for a fraction of a second. Kurt's eyebrows shot up, the corner of his lip turning up. He placed his fingers on top of the keyboard, ready to type, but pulled them away slowly to lean back in his seat.

_I'm just a Curbside Prophet love,_

_I'm just a Curbside Prophet love,_

_Curbside Prophet love,_

_And I'm waitin'for my rocket I said a waitin' for my rocket to come now_

_Curbside..come now brother..._

The crowd gathered in the little coffee shop roared, Blaine giving a rushed smile as he glanced the crowd for Kurt. The table Kurt had occupied was empty, and Blaine threw his guitar off and ran towards the door as he saw the slim retreating figure of Kurt.

"Kurt, wait!" Blaine called out after him, causing Kurt to pick up his pace slightly.

"Kurt!" Blaine yelled out, grabbing the slender pale hand.

Kurt turned around quickly, his glance settled on their intertwined hands. Blaine took his other hand and lifted Kurt's chin to where he met his gaze, leaving their hands pressed together.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Kurt muttered, enchanted by the pair of hazel eyes twinkling in front of him.

"For you, maybe. But not for me; I've been seeing you." Blaine shrugged, lips tugging upward.

Kurt blinked a few times before responding with. "What?"

Blaine laughed, removing his fingers from under Kurt's chin but leaving their hands together. "You're a Broadway legend now, Kurt. Of course I've been hearing around about you. Oh, and I saw Next to Normal. Excellent job as Gabe, by the way. Worked the poles almost as well as Aaron."

"Only almost?" Kurt protested, mock hurt etched on his face.

"Well, Hummel, we are talking about Aaron. He's a god." Blaine amended, a grin settling on his face once more.

Kurt laughed, pulling a pair of gloves from his laptop case. Blaine released his hand and Kurt pulled the gloves on, only to capture it once more after the gloves were on.

"Blaine, this isn't how this can work you know." Kurt finally said as we walked down the street.

"Well why not, Kurt? Why do we have to focus on our past? Can't we just start a future?" Blaine asked, irritation lacing his tone.

"No, Blaine, we can't! And don't you have a boyfriend or something?" Kurt retorted, glaring down at his feet.

Blaine stopped walking, pulling Kurt's arm to where he was standing in front of him. "And where did you come up with this notion, Mister Hummel?"

"T-that guy that winked at you before you performed. I-I just assumed..." Kurt stuttered, secretly relishing in the heat of Blaine's body so close to his own.

"That's my brother, Kurt. His name is Charles." Blaine laughed, moving a strand of hair from Kurt's forehead.

"So, what were you typing there, Kurt?" Blaine asked, pointing to the laptop case.

"A review, actually. Of your performance for the Sunday edition of the New York Times." Kurt admitted, the slight pink flush of his face slowly disappearing.

"Oh, really now? So if I were to kiss you right now, that wouldn't be considered sucking up for a good review, would it?" Blaine asked, stepping closer to Kurt so that their bodies were against each other.

"Blaine, no." Kurt said, stepping back, instantly feeling a pang of guilt at Blaine's defeated look.

"I cant' do this, Blaine. Not until our past is settled out." Kurt added, pulling a business card out of the front pocket of his laptop case. He handed the piece of paper to Blaine, his fingers lingering on Blaine's outstretched hand.

"Come to this address Tuesday afternoon at three. I'll explain everything there." Kurt said, stepping closer to Blaine and pressing his lips against his forehead. Blaine said nothing, only watched Kurt as he turned the corner.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

**A/N:**

**Kay! Please feel free to review, share with your friends, heck! You can even show your goldfish! I'll put the next part up very VERY soon!**

**Highest regards,**

**Gale A.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

**OH MY GOD GUYS. I'M SO SORRY. I've been so busy it's not even funny, but that's just not a good enough excuse. I'm also sorry for all the grammar mistakes in that first chapter...I might go back and fix that later on. But right now I'm going to focus on Kurt's tale. Commencing...now.**

**I disclaim. **

Blaine wasn't too surprised when the address Kurt gave him was to a very high-end bistro on the "swankified" side of town. He also wasn't too shocked to see Broadway legends lounging around, drinking expensive teas and discussing their roles and awards. He definitely wasn't shocked when many of the actors glared at his outfit, which consisted of a torn-up flannel shirt and jeans that were ripped at the knees and had become worn over time; actors have always remained the top thing on the Things That Piss Off Blaine Anderson List.

All his resentment melted away as Blaine caught sight of Kurt talking with the curly-headed piano man, an actor Blaine had just seen in a production of Hair not too long ago. Kurt turned his head and saw Blaine, causing Kurt to smile and wave slightly before turning his head back to the piano. Blaine grinned a little to himself before ordering a medium drip at the counter (the most expensive coffee Blaine had ever purchased at six dollars and thirty-three cents).

At the sight of Kurt standing at the microphone, the room turned quiet, all eyes directed towards the stage. Blaine took a seat on one of the high stools pushed up against the counter, propping his elbows on the counter and raising his eyebrows when the barista shot him a look.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I'm Kurt Hummel, currently with the production Wicked as Boq and welcome to Sarah's Bistro. This opening number is from a show I was in a few years ago called The Last Five Year.s. As you all know, I prefer singing female songs and proving society wrong, so I shall be doing that again with Still Hurting. Hope you enjoy." Kurt concluded as the room buzzed with a mixture of laughter and clapping. Kurt nodded towards the piano player, who began playing the lengthy piano intro.

_Jamie is over and Jamie is gone,_

_Jamie's decided it's time to move on._

_Jamie has new dreams he's building upon,_

_And I'm still hurting. _

And suddenly, without any warning, Blaine felt the room change. Suddenly he wasn't a starving artist living in Alphabet City, New York. Blaine was a young and stupid seventeen year old, leading a group of young musicians with authority he didn't realize he had. He was Blaine, the Warbler from that preppy Dalton school with the stellar voice. He didn't have a care in the world, or at least that's what he made people think.

_Jamie arrived at the end of the line,_

_Jamie's convinced that the problems are mine._

_Jamie's got secrets he doesn't confide,_

_And I'm still hurting._

But then Kurt Hummel came along. This boy who was bullied at his school for being who he was. Blaine wouldn't admit it then as the two talked after Teenage Dream, but he knew that Kurt's bullying was escalating to the point where it could match his own experience. There was a lot about himself Blaine felt he never could tell Kurt, out of pure fear that Kurt would hate him for it. He didn't want to screw up this thing with Kurt, because for the first time in a few years, Blaine felt whole again.

_What about lies, Jamie?_

_What about things_

_That you swore to be true?_

_What about you, Jamie._

_What about you?_

Kurt glanced over at Blaine, who gave him an encouraging smile. Kurt returned the smile and turned back to the small crowd in front of him.

_Jamie is sure something wonderful died._

_Jamie decides it's his right to decide._

_Jamie's got secrets he doesn't confide,_

_And I'm still hurting. _

Blaine had regretted the day he broke up with Kurt like nothing else before. But long-distance relationships never work, right? Michigan and New York were two different places; there were so many different people and surely things between two Ohio kids would be changed. So Blaine went to Michigan. And Kurt went to New York. Simple as that. That day they broke up, the two boys swore to never think of the other ever again. That promise was broken quickly, though, as Kurt watched every musical produced from the University of Michigan's Youtube channel and Blaine payed to see every Broadway show Kurt ever starred in. And every time Blaine would see Kurt's face, he knew that – deep down – he still loved Kurt. Little did he know the same thought crossed Kurt's mind every time he saw Blaine (even when he performed as a ridiculous version of Harry Potter).

_Go and run and hide away,_

_Run away, run and find something better._

_Go and ride the sun away!_

_Run away,_

_Like it's simple, like it's right..._

Tears prickled at Kurt's eyes, only a few flowing down his face. His hand found the microphone as he straightened up his posture and the piano swam through the air effortlessly.

_Jamie is over and where do I turn?_

_Covered with scars I did nothing to earn._

_Maybe there's somewhere a lesson to learn?_

_But that wouldn't change the fact._

Kurt's eyes moved over to where Blaine was seated, singing completely to him as Blaine could only stare back, tears escaping down his face.

_That wouldn't speed the time,_

_Once the foundation's cracked._

_And I'm still hurting._

Applause flooded through the room as Kurt gave a small curtsey, causing Blaine to smile in spite of himself. The piano player stood up from the piano bench and walked over to Kurt, pulling him into a hug. After a moment, Kurt pulled back, kissing him on the cheek and stepping off the stage.

"So, who'd you sing that song to, Hummel? Because I'm fully prepared to kick some ass now." Piano player said as he caught up with Kurt.

"Um, that would be me, actually." Blaine said quietly as Kurt and the other man walked up to where he was sitting.

"Jesse, this is Blaine Anderson. Blaine, this is Jesse St James, my co-worker at the New York Times." Kurt explained, smiling a bit at the shocked look on Jesse's face.

"I can't kick his ass, Kurt. He's cute. Like a little puppy or something. And I don't kick dogs." Jesse nodded seriously, smirking a little.

"Thank you?" Blaine nearly asked, eyebrows knitted together.

"Well, I've got work to do, worlds to save, people to sing to. I'll be off now, make sure your review is in by tomorrow afternoon, Kurt. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Jesse winked, rubbing his hand across Kurt's perfect hair, earning a quick punch on the shoulder as he walked a way.

"I'm sorry about him." Kurt said promptly as Jesse left, shrugging.

"It's okay, my friends are much worse. But, you know what they say. What happens in Michigan stays in Michigan." Blaine returned, laughing a little as he stared down at the ground.

"Do you want to take a walk?" Kurt asked as Blaine threw away his empty coffee cup.

"Sure thing," Blaine responded, following Kurt outside. "The coffee at Lima Bean was much better. And cost much less."

Kurt laughed, nervously taking Blaine's hand. "Yeah, well, Sarah's is known for tea, not coffee. I hope I didn't scare you or anything with my song choice."

Blaine grasped Kurt's hand firmly, smiling as Kurt visibly relaxed. "Of course not. It's a wonderful song, and I think the lyrics apply. I've got a lot of explaining to do, Kurt."

Kurt glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, eyebrows raised in a "no, really?" sort of look.

"I lied to you when I said I didn't think a long-distance relationship wouldn't work, Kurt. The love we had for each other was strong enough to last in the after-life for God's sake. I just...I've got a lot of baggage, Kurt. And you don't deserve that."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Blaine, I am the king of baggage. What's a few more bags to me?"

Blaine stopped for a moment, looking out at the New York skyline. "Isn't it magnificent? New York, that is. You know, Michigan was absolutely wonderful, but nothing in this world can compare to the beauty of New York City. A lot of crap happens here, we both know that. But that still doesn't make anyone love this city less. It's the city of dreams. Some of them don't come true – I haven't made my millions yet off my EP album – but just being here makes it worth it."

Kurt's eyebrows knit together, a confused expression gracing his features. "What are you getting at here, Blaine?"

"When I was younger, my mom used to take me to New York for the weekends sometimes. I later found out it was an excuse to get away from my dad. This one time when I came with my mom, I saw this boy. He was walking with his mom, probably around eight years old and I told my mom that I wanted to marry that boy. She just laughed, kissed my forehead, and told me to do whatever I wanted. I saw this boy again recently, right here in New York. He sang to me and it reminded me of my mom, who gave up a career on Broadway to raise me. After my mom died, I wasn't able to come back here. Nobody could make me feel the way that I did whenever I first stepped on the streets of Times Square holding hands with my mom. But then I met you. I met you, Kurt, and I felt complete all over again. I came here because I knew you were here. I love you, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. I've loved you since I was a little eight year old kid who didn't know much. And I still love you, and I'm pretty sure I always wi-"

Blaine's words were cut off as Kurt pressed his lips firmly on Blaine's, throwing his arms around his neck. Blaine smiled into the kiss, resting his hands on Kurt's hips as his heart began racing. They stayed that way for what seemed like forever, people jokingly whispering "Oh, get a room already" as the passed the couple with fond smiles on their lips.

When air became necessary again, Kurt slowly pulled away from Blaine, blue eyes meeting hazel eyes once again.

"Wow," Kurt whispered.

"Yeah," Blaine responded, breathing beginning to calm down.

And suddenly the rest of the world was forgotten as the two once-lovers became lovers once more.

**A/N:**

**Thanks for reading! Please please please review! **

**-Gale A.**


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